


Winter Callers

by FrostedGear



Series: One Eyed Mage AU [1]
Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Raistlin hasn't got hourglass eyes, WIP, just regularly borked health, or totally borked health, possibly a sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25170979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedGear/pseuds/FrostedGear
Summary: In the caves before the companions reached Thorbardin, Raistlin falls ill. Sturm, realising the man needs rest offers comfort.
Relationships: Raistlin Majere/Sturm Brightblade
Series: One Eyed Mage AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823470
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Winter Callers

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so bear with me. I'm not 100% happy with this, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. I'm hoping to get a bigger fic up in time with a similar idea and a slow burn element so that maybe Sturm's character will play ball instead of fighting me on having feelings for Raistlin. We'll see.

Winter was coming. Raistlin didn’t like winter at the best of times, but even less so when the only thing between him and a slow frosty death in the mountains was a shallow cave with a weaved covering that didn’t so much combat the wind as barely keep the moonlight out at night.

It also did a terrible job of keeping kender out, as proven by the covering falling to the floor courtesy of Tas’s hand. “Ho! Raistlin, are you awake?”

Raistlin didn’t reply at first muscles coiling as a sneeze built and ultimately exploded from his face, shaking the mage’s thin frame. He sniffed, letting out a slow breath and holding himself carefully. “What do you want?”

A flash of white was shoved into his face. “Can chickens fly?” Tas asked, while Raistlin slowly shifted back so he could actually _see_ the small white feather in Tasslehoff’s small hand by the light of the lantern in his other. “Have you got a cold, Raistlin?”

“Probably.” The mage put his head in his hand, wondering what exactly he’d done wrong to deserve such a visit. He shuddered as his body went cold suddenly, hunching deeper into his robes.

“… And then I looked up and it was raining chicken feathers,” Tasslehoff explained, not that Raistlin had heard half of what was being said. “So do you think you could?”

“Could what?”

“Look back in time and tell me where the chicken went!”

Raistlin groaned. “Tasslehoff,” he began harshly. “Doing magic when ill is going to land me in an early grave. No, I will not waste my energy looking through the past in search of a chicken.”

“Oh, so then, you’ll do it when you’re better!” Tas smiled, “Thank you, Raistlin!” He skipped out of the cave, forgetting to put the covering back, though Raistlin had no intention of calling him back. He started to get up, falling back to the ground as a coughing fit caught him off guard.

Coloured spots danced in front of his vision, making him dizzy. When everything finally settled, Raistlin was aware of another light in the room. A lantern on the floor. Looking around he spotted Sturm. “No Caramon?” he rasped. He, Sturm and Caramon were currently living in this cave, with Laurana and Tika in another, Tanis, Flint and Tas also had their own. Riverwind and Goldmoon had a cave somewhere with another couple, but Raistlin rarely needed either Plainsmen and so hadn’t paid attention to where that cave was.

“No, he’s with Tika,” Sturm responded. “He also thought you were sleeping,” he added mildly, “Did Tas wake you?”

Raistlin shook his head, rubbing between his eyebrows. “I woke up a bit ago, he just burst in.”

Sturm nodded and passed Raistlin a mug of water before turning to re-cover the entrance to the cave. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“Not particularly.” Raistlin had been feeling dreadful for days. The cold didn’t generally agree with him and the poor conditions they were living in weren’t helping. “But it’s better now that Tasslehoff isn’t talking my ear off.”

Sturm gave a weak smile, “I can understand that. He means well, but his mind runs a mile a minute and it’s hard to keep up normally, never mind when your brain is full of cotton.”

“And snot,” he grumbled, digging in his robe for a handkerchief. “I’m sure I get dumber with every sneeze.”

“You’ll be fine, then. A couple of sneezes would leave the likes of others brain dead, you’ve a little while longer yet.”

Raistlin scoffed, grimacing and coughing a few times, a harsh hacking noise that made Sturm very concerned he might become choked by a lung trying to escape his throat. "Do you want another drink? Tea or something?"

Thinking about it the mage nodded, “I could murder for a hot drink.”

Sturm got up and patted Raistlin on the shoulder as he passed. When the knight returned, the mage was lying on his side, coughing intermittently.

“Still awake?”

Raistlin turned his head, hand wrapping around himself as he coughed a little harsher. “You try sleeping with this cough,” he rasped. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Caramon tries to sleep with Tika tonight.”

“He wouldn’t manage it,” Sturm assured, handing Raistlin the tea when the mage was sat up against the side of the cave. “Laurana would kick him out. And anyway, he seems to actually be trying to court her than sleep with her.”

Shrugging, Raistlin cradled the drink to his chest revelling in the warmth, eyes fluttering shut. “Each to their own.”

Leaving him to the tea, Sturm sat down by his own bedroll, pulling out a slim book with worn edges. There was a peaceful quiet in the cave for some time.

Finishing the tea, Raistlin placed the mug down near his bedroll. “Thank you, that feels much better.” Sturm hummed to show he had heard, but didn’t raise his gaze until it was time to turn the page in his book.

“You should rest, it’s night time anyway,” Sturm prompted, noticing Raistlin was still sat up.

Humming in agreement, Raistlin replied, “I’m going to sleep sitting up, the coughing is less like this.”

“Still a drama queen I see.”

Raistlin shot him a dirty look. “Well, with nothing comfortable to rest my head on, it’s either I sit up and get backache or lie down and don’t sleep. Or sleep on a book and have headache too.”

Sturm rolled his eyes. “Were you like this in the Baron’s army?”

“I had a bed in the Baron’s army.”

“Of course, how could I dare assume otherwise.”

Silence fell over the cave once again for long moments, Raistlin’s eyes slipping closed at some point. The cave wall wasn’t the best thing to fall asleep against, but it wasn’t the worst. His bedroll was decently stuffed and the thicker robes he was wearing along with his blanket made it only mildly uncomfortable.

The fact he hadn’t been expecting anyone to approach him made it all the more startling when Raistlin felt an arm around his shoulders pulling him down towards the ground. His eyes flew open and the world swam for a moment before by the lantern light he made out Sturm above him and something thick and firm under his head.

“Sturm?” The thing under his head twitched as the knight shifted. Turning his head away from the knight, he watched Sturm’s feet cross at the ankles and realised his head was in Sturm’s lap. How very forward, he thought, biting back a smirk. It also reminded him of some of the mercenaries in the Baron of Langtree’s army that Raistlin had gotten to know more intimately.

“It’s better to lie down for sleep,” Sturm said stiffly, his book hiding his face from Raistlin.

Deciding it was better not to comment Raistlin closed his eyes again and relaxed.

* * *

It was a testament to how unwell Raistlin really was that he fell asleep almost instantly. Sturm lowered his book when he heard the mage’s breath even out. Raistlin’s face was flushed with fever, strands of auburn hair sticking to his head, coated with sweat. Gently, Sturm pushed the man’s fringe from where it covered his right eye, the mage stirring slightly, but stilling soon after.

For all he complained, Sturm could see Raistlin was trying. He’d been gone from Solace for seventeen years before showing up in the autumn on the same night the blue crystal staff fell into their lap. He and Caramon weren’t as close as they otherwise might have been but seemed to get on well enough, and didn’t attempt to monopolise the big man’s time as Raistlin had when they were children.

Coughing Raistlin rolled onto his side, a hand coming up to snag at the hem of Sturm’s tunic, causing the knight to blush as he became aware of how close Raistlin’s face was to his stomach, though if the sleeping mage were awake, Sturm doubted Raistlin would care. Neither he or his siblings seemed to care much for personal space when they wanted something.

Out of the three siblings, Sturm found they’d all inherited good looks, though while Caramon had his father’s face and more rugged good looks, Raistlin and Kitiara shared the same crooked smirk that twisted hearts and loins, presumably from their mother, Rosamun. Kitiara of course had always used that power freely, wrapping Tanis and many men before him around her finger. Sturm didn’t know if Raistlin was the same, taking hoards of women to bed and discarding them the next morning, but the knight doubted it as even with spending the last five years with a mostly male army and now sharing living spaces with the refugees, Raistlin hadn’t paid specific attention to anyone.

As Raistlin’s coughing got a little harsher, Sturm rubbed his back, leaving his arm around the other man even after the fit had passed. Raistlin seemed to be pretty out of it and there was no one watching. Besides, the coughing was likely to pick up again.

When Caramon finally returned to the cave much later, he discovered Sturm and Raistlin asleep, arms around each other in the waning light of the lantern. Smiling in bemusement, Caramon tucked Sturm’s blanket around the two before curling up on his own bedroll.

He was also careful not to mention his own theory on how Sturm started with a cold a few days later.


End file.
